There’s a crow on the barrow Saddest of figures in grey Guardian of the royal grave Ancient legends say There’s a moan from upon the hill Clad in a silvery light Dweller of a forgotten tomb, Dormant heathen might
Croaking at the autumn sky An accolade in the wind Carried to the ones up high
There’s a crow on the barrow Silently spying into the dark There’s a crow on the barrow Secretly scowling into the black autumn night
There’s a present calmness so dense, A bower of eternal peace Vague shadows in reverence Like breezes through the trees Echoes of the ceremony Flashes of silver and gold Offerings of beast and slaves While odes and legends told